


An Alliance of Misfits

by knot_eloquent



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, House of Memes, Humor, Slice of Life, Starring The Golden Underdogs, Team Bonding, Troll von Riegan, Wholesome Fun, fear the deer, golden deer more like golden trolls, my golden babies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23385880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knot_eloquent/pseuds/knot_eloquent
Summary: Claude grinned, lips all coy corners and roguish charm. Instead of answering, his hooded eyes slid over each of them in turn, lingering, assessing.“Raphael, what would you say was your biggest strength?”“That’s easy – my muscles. I use them to beat up bad guys!”“You didn’t have to answer that so literally,” Lysithea muttered dryly.Claude nodded. “They’re not just great for beating up bad guys. You could  use them to lift, build, push and pull. Think outside the box of battle. Ignatz, what are your talents?”“Oh, well, I’m a decent enough archer, I suppose…and a hard worker!”“That you are, my friend. You’re also a great artist. And that can be utilized, with a little creativity. Marianne?”“Oh! No, I couldn’t possibly…please skip me, Claude.”Claude smiled. “You’re great at keeping secrets. Normally, that frustrates the hell out of me, but not when it’s a secret we all share.”“Claude, are you not going to ask ME about MY greatest strength?” Lorenz demanded, looking as if he had prepared for this moment all his life.---Or, The Golden Deer declare a prank war on Garreg Mach.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Hilda Valentine Goneril & Claude von Riegan, Hilda Valentine Goneril/Claude von Riegan, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Leonie Pinelli, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 19
Kudos: 143





	1. Claude

**An Alliance of Misfits**

**Mission 1: Claude**

Horseback riding and balls were fun and all, and so was catching up at high “tea” with Professor Manuela, but the most popular activity among the most sophisticated ladies of Garreg Mach monastery was and has always been, by far, people-watching in the northern courtyard outside the dining hall.

It was a historic year for celebrity, after all, with the heirs of the Empire, Kingdom, and Alliance gathered together among the freshman class. They’d brought with them a menagerie of intriguing characters, some of whom caught more attention than the rest.

“All of the Blue Lions boys are so broody and dreamy,” sighed a young lady with short blond curls, gazing at Dimitri lacing up his boots across the courtyard. He yanked the laces upwards, audibly ripping apart the leather and severing shoe from sole. 

“So strong, yet sensitive.”

“I don’t know, Arabelle. Dimitri’s kind of boring,” replied the willowy, raven-haired girl beside her, daintily lifting a porcelain teacup to her pouty lips. “He seems less like a main character and more like a plot device.”

“Oh my god, Everly,” chirped Arabelle, “you can’t just go around calling people plot devices. I would literally _die_ if somebody called me a plot device.”

Everly shrugged, spooning another cube of sugar into her drink. “Now, Hubert, on the other hand, he’s got some complexity a girl could sink her teeth into.” Her eyes darted towards the hedges. “There he is now…” she whispered giddily.

Arabelle squinted. “Girl, that is not your man Hubert. That is a bunch of cats sitting on a barrel.”

“He’s just kind of hard to see sometimes because he’s lurking in the shadows,” Everly insisted without missing a beat. “Hubert knows that too much sun exposure ages your skin.”

“ _Please_ let’s not get this started again,” interjected the third girl in the party, a petite noblewoman with cotton candy colored hair and a dimpled grin. Hilda splayed her manicured fingers in front of Everly as if to halt her words in midair. “We all know how _obsessed_ you are with broody boys from the Empire.”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk. Who made out with Caspar von Bergliez in the infirmary two weekends ago?” Everly shot back, giving a friendly wave to Caspar as he and Linhardt walked by across the lawn.

“Oh my god,” Hilda gritted out. “First of all, that was _three_ weekends ago. And I most certainly did _not_. I brought him to Manuela’s for a black eye, slapped a bandage on it, and explained to him in simple, halting words why _violence isn’t the answer_.”

Everly glanced at her, eyes glinting like a predator going on the offensive. “Yes, that may be what you say now, but we’ve seen you on the battlefield, Miss Girly Burly Brigand.” Everly’s eyebrows arched in delighted exaggeration as she lowered her face to meet the teacup. “Remember when you routed those bandits wielding a hammer bigger than your entire _body_?”

Hilda tried to keep her voice level as she directed it towards Everly. “First of all, I’m very smol; there are _lots_ of weapons that are bigger than me. Secondly, I don’t approve of where this conversation is headed. This is Girls’ Gossip Hour, not the battlefield.”

“Love is a battlefield,” Everly said, flipping her raven hair.

“Oh, don’t be so embarrassed, Hilda! Brighilda is so cool!” Arabelle gushed with stars in her eyes. “You are absolutely _stacked_.”

“Do you think she could murk Raphael, or perhaps even Dimitri himself, Arabelle?”

“Oh Everly, _absolutely_.”

“Guys!” Hilda whined, mortified. “Being stacked _isn’t_ cute. Boys go out of their way to help fragile, delicate maidens—not muscly she-hulk _freaks_.” Hilda groaned and leaned forward, clutching at her head. Hilda’s disdain for her own strength was no secret from her friends. Maintaining one’s appearances _was_ part of any noblewoman’s training, after all. The irony was the Hilda put more effort into appearing weak and non-threatening than she did into her other duties.

Everly gazed at her friend with sympathy and placed a reassuring hand on her back. “Hey, stop. Hilda, you’re like, the cutest, most feminine girl I know—muscles and all. You’re not a freak.”

“Thanks, but I don’t _feel_ that way.”

Arabelle took Hilda’s hands in hers and squeezed it reassuringly. “You’re not weird at all, Hilda, truly.” She looked at Hilda with earnest, hazel eyes bright and unflinching. “You’re so cute and cool – not like the rest of the Golden Deer at _all._ ”

The table shook as Everly slammed her teacup down and cleared her throat. Hilda’s face buckled in disbelief. 

“What do you mean, ‘not like the rest of the Golden Deer’?” Hilda sat up straighter in her seat, unconsciously flaring open her broad shoulders. “You think my housemates are _weird_?”

“Well, _weird_ isn’t the right word for it. It’s more like, _different_ , wouldn’t you say?” The words jumbled nervously out of Arabelle’s mouth like marbles. “Yes, all of you are very _different_ from each other. I mean, think about it – The Black Eagles are posh psychos, the Blue Lions are a bunch of traumatized sadbags with unhealthy coping mechanisms, but the Golden Deer—there’s no…unifying _thing_ holding you guys all together, is there?”

Hilda blinked. “But we’re all from the Alliance!”

“That doesn’t _mean_ anything, though. Just look at the name of the mock battle we’re having this week. It’s ‘The Battle of the Eagle and the Lion’, not ‘The Battle of the Eagle and the Lion and the Rainbow Rangers.”

Hilda scoffed at that. “Uh, _yeah_ —because the tradition _started_ before the formation of the Alliance. If we had existed at the time, it would’ve been called ‘The Battle of the Eagle and the Lion Getting Their Petty, Bickering Asses Kicked by the Golden Deer’”

Everly raised a hand in silent reprimand. “Let’s not jump to conclusions, Arabelle. The Alliance is too young to have had much of a name for themselves. Although,” Everly eyed Hilda coyly, teacup raised daintily to her lips. “Word has it that your man Claude is set to shake things up.”

“Ooh, Claude von Riegan! I _forgot_ that he was in the Golden Deer,” gushed Arabelle.

“Girl, did you hit your head on the cathedral gate?” Everly rolled her eyes. “He’s their house leader.”

“He’s _so_ handsome,” Arabelle plowed on. “Hilda, you _must_ kiss his stupid, gorgeous face.”

“Arabelle! Everly!” Hilda shrieked, crushing a biscuit in her hand into crumbly oblivion. “Claude is so _not_ my man. He’s like, a really good, _platonic_ guy friend.” Hilda let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding in and unballed her fists, willing herself to regain her cool. “It might be hard to get if you don’t have any platonic guy friends.”

“I have platonic guy friends!” Arabelle stated indignantly, “Sylvain talks to me like, _all the time_.”

The doors of the dining hall flew open as Ignatz burst through, glasses thick with steam as his hands clutched at his crimson face.

“H-H-H-OTTT!” he shouted across the grounds, turning the head of every passerby in the vicinity. “It’s too HOT!” He collapsed to the ground in front of Hilda, chest rising and falling in labored gasps.

“ _Ignatz_?” Hilda’s pulse raced as she pressed a hand to his temple. His skin was blistering to touch. “Ignatz, are you alright?”

“Hilda?” Ignatz lifted his head weakly to meet her eyes, his voice dry and depleted. “Goddess, Hilda, IT _BURNS_. It feels like Lorenz hit me with a fire spell...in the _face_.”

“IGNATZ!” Leonie charged in, bucket of water sloshing in one hand with the rest of the Golden Deer in tow. “Hold still, I’ve got you!” She upended the bucket onto Ignatz. Hilda shrieked and leapt backwards as waves broke over Ignatz’s face.

“Th-thanks, Leonie,” Ignatz mumbled, toweling off his wet glasses on his equally wet shirt. “That didn’t help at all, but I realize now that screaming will only encourage you to keep trying.”

Hilda eyed each of her classmates, bewildered as she took in their harried appearances. Marianne’s face was ghastly pale. Lorenz was sweating profusely, fanning himself with what looked to be Ignatz’s term paper. Raphael’s face was so ruddy and runny with tears that Hilda briefly wondered if he’d been trying to solve Reason equations again.

“What’s wrong with everyone?” she asked, maybe only a little bit afraid of the answer.

“What’s _wrong_ ,” Lorenz spat, sweat beading off his forehead and indignancy emanating off him like coals in a fire pit, “is that the _noble authorities_ at this academy have failed to protect their _students_. Some miscreant infiltrated the kitchen and _poisoned_ the usual fare. As if it eating Turnip Stew wasn’t enough of an a-aa-AAA-aaHhh…front.”

“Eeeewwwww!!” Hilda squealed, though not unimpressed that Lorenz had managed to finish his sentence despite retching up the rest of his dinner. He wasn’t alone in his behavior. Other students began emerging from the dining hall and unloading the glittery contents of their stomachs onto the lawn as well. Hilda winced as Caspar ran out, beating his chest and screaming at the sky to fight him. Linhardt lay prone and unmoving on his back nearby, his body having reverted back to a default state of unconsciousness in reaction to the stress of the poisoning. 

“The dining hall is supposed to be _safe_ space,” Raphael whispered, so uncharacteristically morose Hilda briefly worried they’d lose him to the Blue Lions.

“How will I ever learn to _trust_ again?” Raphael wailed and stomped, boots coming down on Ignatz’s outstretched hand. The resulting yelp of pain was followed by a soft moan of resignment.

“You are all so childish,” Lysithea piped in, bell sleeves folded over her chest. Unlike the rest of the student body, she looked completely unfazed. “Screaming and rolling around in the dirt. It’s totally undignified.”

“Shut it, Lysithea,” commanded Leonie. “ _You_ only avoided the stomach poison because you had dessert first.”

Lysithea’s expression was volcanic. “At least I was eating _something_. Unlike _somebody_ who couldn’t get a bite in because she was so busy blubbering about Captain Jeralt dining with Professor Byleth instead of us. She’s his _child_ , Leonie—”

“Child or not, there’s no way she’s more fun to be around than me! Check this out – I got this one from Alois: What kind of bow can be used without an arrow?”

“Oh my God, Leonie please no-“

“An _elbow_.”

From the ground, Ignatz groaned. Lorenz squeezed his eyes shut and put a hand to his temple.

“Marianne, could you take a look at Ignatz’s hand? I daresay it might be broken.”

“Oh!” Marianne’s eyes went wide, caught off guard by her own existence. “Better not…I’d only make it worse.”

“What are you _talking_ about?” Hilda said, exasperated. “You’re the best healer in our class.” She immediately regretted raising her voice as she saw Marianne cringe into herself.

“No, it’s OK,” Raphael said gently, placing a large hand on Marianne’s shoulder. “I get it, Marianne. And I’ve thought it through. Just because we can’t eat in the dining hall anymore, doesn’t mean we can’t eat someplace else.”

“Raphael…” Hilda squinted at his non sequitur. “What?”

He shushed her gently, as if she was the one who’d suddenly brought up a problem exactly nobody had. “From now on, we can all have dinner in the cathedral—with the Goddess Statue.”

“I don’t think the goddess would approve of that, Raphael.” Lorenz sighed, massaging his temple.

“Why not? We could make an offering! Who said we weren’t gonna share?”

“N-no it’s not that,” stammered Marianne weakly, face creased with distress as she continued to gaze at Ignatz, who still lay moaning on the lawn. “I’m cursed! It’s better if you all stayed away from me!” Tearily, she pushed past Hilda around and took off sprinting across the lawn.

“Wait, Marianne! Come back!” Leonie shouted, hand outstretched. “Where in Fodlan is Claude when you need him?” she grumbled. Looking back over her shoulder at her classmates, Leonie cocked her head towards Marianne’s fleeing form. As Claude’s retainer, Hilda knew she should have been the one rallying the troops in his absence, but she wasn’t about to protest if somebody else wanted to pull their weight for her. With that, the Golden Deer were off, chasing after a distraught noblewoman being assailed by her own feelings.

“Hey! You forgot Ignatz!” shouted Hilda.

Arabelle and Everly walked up to Hilda from behind, arms folded.

“It’s almost alarming how perfectly functional they all are,” said Arabelle.

“Kindly shut your mouth,” Hilda replied. “As if the other houses are handling it any better…”

The doors of the dining hall burst open. “AN ATTEMPT HAS BEEN MADE ON THE LIFE OF FERDINAND VON AEGIR!”

Hilda slipped behind a crate into a passage crammed between the monastery wall and a winding row of hedges. Now that she’d convinced Arabelle to deliver Ferdinand back to Hubert and sent Everly to the infirmary with Ignatz, it was time for her to make her escape. She didn’t want to be caught up in the volunteer clean-up crew, after all.

She was making a familiar turn in the hedge maze that would lead her to the other side of the campus when she was abruptly halted by a familiar, partially exposed chest.

“Oof. Hey, Claude”

“Hey, Hilda,” Claude greeted, taking a step back to give her space. He maneuvered his shoulders lengthwise to better accommodate her, brushing against the exposed skin of her arm as he did.

“What are you doing in the Hedge Hideaway? Are you avoiding work, young lady?”

Hilda tssked at him teasingly. “First of all, it _Hilda’s Hedge Hideaway_. I found it, _remember_?”

“Sure, sure,” grinned Claude, “your way in the Hideaway, I remember.”

“Secondly, I’m not ‘avoiding’ work as much as I’m…encouraging my peers to pitch in.” She smiled up at him sweetly, watching the shadows of leaves dance over his hooded gaze.

“And lastly,” she cleared her throat, noting the gleam of his teeth as he smirked at her. “ _You’ve_ got no right playing the moralist when _you’re_ the one fleeing the scene of a crime.”

“Hilda!” Claude gasped theatrically, clutching at his chest. “What would people say if they knew you were accusing your house leader of being a _common crook_?”

“You? Common? Not a chance. Crook?” she leaned forward, staring at him dead in the eye, “ _There’s nothing straight about you except your arrows, Claude von Riegan_.”

Claude said nothing, just let the smile play over his face, lips upturned mischievously.

Hilda sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine, keep your secrets,” She poked at his chest teasingly. “Just do me a solid next time, and let me know before you go about meddling with the meal plan? I need to plan ahead if there’s going to be bathroom traffic.”

Claude straightened his shoulders and stiffened his face into a frown, falling into his Hubert impersonation. “Deepest apologies for not giving you adequate warning, Lady Edelgard. Please allow me to punch myself in the face in retribution.”

“That won’t be necessary, Hubert,” Hilda clipped, “you may redeem yourself by licking my riding boots.”

“You honor me, my lady.”

“CLAUDE! I KNOW YOU’RE HERE! I SAW YOU SNEAKING OUT OF THE DINING HALL!” called Byleth from across the hedges, teacher voice expertly projected. You’d hardly think she was so quiet usually. From between the branches, Hilda spied Byleth’s powerful figure striding towards them.

“Looks like that’s my cue,” Claude whispered, flashing her one final grin. Gently, firmly, he pressed his hands against her shoulders, steadying her as he slid past. For an instant, they stood chest to chest, his body full and warm against hers.

“Ooooh look at me,” Claude whispered, unable to help himself. “I’m Dimitri–it took me three months to learn Reposition.”

Tears sprang to Hilda’s eyes as she clutched her belly and shook with silent laughter. Claude’s disappeared around the corner in quick retreat. The Professor would catch up to him, alright, but Claude was never one to go down without a fight.

On the other side of the hedges, Felix and Sylvain were strolling back to their dormitories from the dining hall.

“Dinner tonight wasn’t too bad,” Felix mused, looking uncharacteristically content. “I could go for seconds, even.”

Sylvain’s steps slowed and came to a halt. When Felix turned back look at him, Sylvain’s face was pulled into a look of disgust.

“Do me a favor, Fe, and do _not_ kiss me tonight.”

* * *

Byleth slammed her palms down onto her desk and leaned forward ever so slightly, pinning Claude down with her gray gaze. “Hello, Claude. I’m sure you know why you’re here.”

It was just the two of them in the Golden Deer classroom, the ruddy light of sunset filtering in through the windows. Byleth’s voice was firm, but Claude detected just a _hint_ more curiosity in her tone than heat. Good, she’d cooled down since yesterday evening. Claude had been able to dodge her by squatting in Dimitri’s room—a decision he regretted only mildly, as Dimitri didn’t so much as sleep as he did lie in bed asking Claude if he ever thought about death or wanted to talk about their feelings. Still, considering the rooms of the other members of the Golden Deer were the first places Byleth would look, and the proximity of Dimitri’s room to his own, it was the most strategically sound place to lay low until Byleth had the chance to process what had happened.

“Would you like to explain _why_ you poisoned half of the student body?” Byleth said levelly, direct to the point as ever. “I’d advise you not to deny it, either. I have evidence—the discarded stem of an Almyran Scorpion Pepper in your bag, an empty vial in the kitchen that looks suspiciously like the one I returned to you earlier last month…” Her eyes flicked up and down, sizing him up for a reaction. Considering that all was going to plan, Claude remained casually unruffled.

“If I didn’t know any better,” she continued, voice dangerously low, “I’d almost think you were being sloppy on purpose.”

Claude couldn’t help the shit-eating grin that split his face. That was Teach for ya, always watching, always thinking. He knew she would figure him out eventually, but he didn’t expect that she’d build such an airtight case against him within such a short period of time. He just needed to push her a little more to grease the wheels of his plan.

“Alright, alright. You’ve got me,” he relented, hands raised in surrender. “It was me, and, like the hiding place where Lorenz keeps his diary, _everybody_ knows it.” He raised an eyebrow at her meaningfully.

As usual, Byleth didn’t disappoint. “So it _was_ for attention, but why?” The question was more rhetorical than interrogative. Claude watched the gears turn in Byleth’s head as she propped up her chin in thought. “What do you want the rest of the school to know…? The timing of this can’t be a coincidence…”

Claude smirked as he watched the glimmer of enlightenment filling Byleth’s eyes.

“I don’t suppose, Claude, that this has to do with the upcoming mock battle at Gronder Field this week?”

Claude smiled beatifically. He knew she’d catch on. Now all that remained was persuading her to join his cause.

“You caught me Teach, but you’ve gotta believe me when I say I did it for the house.” He leaned forward, meeting her eye-to-eye and spreading out his palms imploringly. “Wanna hear why?”

Byleth sighed and rubbed her temple. “I’m not about to get another unsolicited presentation about the strategic advantages of placing Lysithea’s equipment on the top shelf of the weapons rack, am I?”

“I’m almost 90% sure she fights better when she’s mad.”

“Claude.”

“I’m kidding! _That_ was a joke. _This_ is a serious scheme.” Claude inhaled, verdant eyes glimmering with excitement. “Teach, I want the Golden Deer to win the Battle of the Eagle of the Lion. And I want to do it through a prank war.”

Byleth’s fingers folded under her chin as she impassively considered him for a few moments.

“Claude, _what the fuck_ ” she finally uttered. “You _just_ said this wasn’t going to be a joke.”

“It’s not a joke! OK, it’s kind of a joke, but it’s for serious reasons. I really think a war of wits leading up to the mock battle would intimidate our opponents, keep everyone on their toes, and give the Golden Deer the type of visibility it needs at this school.” Claude leaned forward, long arms making majestic sweeps over the desk in illustration. “You know as well as I do how everybody else sees us here. We’re _outsiders_. But that could work to our advantage.”

Byleth sighed and rubbed her temples, but didn’t motion for him to stop. Claude smirked. She was a lot more curious than she let on.

“Think about it, Teach: we’d be doing the other classes a favor by teaching them how to anticipate their opponents’ actions in unexpected contexts.”

“The only thing we’d be teaching them,” Byleth clipped, folding her arms and leaning back into her chair, “is that cheating is permissible.”

“What we’re teaching them is to _Fear the Deer_ ,” Claude insisted, earning a groan from Byleth. “And it’s not cheating, per se. It’s not part of the standard curriculum, for sure, but aren’t we here to learn how to think strategically and adapt to our situations? This type of approach is applicable to real warfare. Think ambush, guerilla tactics, subterfuge. The real world is not beholden to the neat rules of the academy. Come on, Teach. You know this as well as I do.”

Byleth considered him thoughtfully, a cue for Claude to press on. “Politics is performance. You know that as well as I do, Teach.” His eyebrows quirked suggestively. Behind her glassy stare, Byleth was calculating and logical. She wasn’t unlike Claude in that way. “That little slam and lean in you did at the beginning of our meeting—that was meant to shake me up a bit and get me talking, wasn’t it?”

The smallest of smiles graced Byleth’s lips. He was almost there, he could feel it. Time to crank up that roguish charm to maximum irresistibility.

“Listen, Teach. I _fully_ believe in the abilities of our classmates. We would win—with or without the pranks.” Claude paused and licked his lips, letting his words find purchase in Byleth’s mind.

“But I want to do more than that. I don’t want to stick to old conventions.” He clenched his fist in front of him tightly, as if he held his tenuous vision of the future between his fingers. “I want to show Fodlan that embracing new ways of thinking, doing, and _loving,_ can be more powerful than anything. That differences should be celebrated, not feared.”

“I want to help the Alliance, and all of Fodlan, see a future founded in diversity and unity,” Claude’s chest tightened, surprised by how sincerely he meant those words. Telling the truth was always just a tad uncomfortable, so he buried it behind a wisecrack: “Besides, nothing we do could make people think worse of us than they already do, can it?”

The air was still as Byleth considered him, dusky eyes steady and impenetrable. Finally, after what seemed like an eon, she let out a sigh and unfolded her arms.

“If we do this, the administration doesn’t find out. I can’t see this going over very well with Seteth and Rhea.”

“I’m not worried about them. Seteth has his hands full managing the fallout with the Eastern Church and preparations for the mock battle. And you’ve got Lady Rhea eating out of the palm of your hand, Teach.”

“I doubt her favoritism is enough to make up for the fact that I’m leading a house for _agents of chaos_.”

“Aw come on, Teach. They’re just harmless pranks. Besides, Rhea doesn’t usually pay attention to matters that don’t directly threaten the church.”

Byleth rolled her eyes very far back in a vain attempt to never look at Claude again. “Fine. But we are limiting it to maximum one prank a day, and this _ends_ the day of the mock battle, no exceptions,” she commanded. 

Claude smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Teach.” He’d gotten her. Hook, line and sinker. Sure, he’d had to jump through a couple of hoops to get to this point, but that’s what made working with Teach so much fun.

“And Claude -- you _have_ to tell me and the rest of the class about your plans beforehand. No more sneaking around and getting into trouble by yourself. After all, this is a team effort.”

* * *

“No offense, Claude, but this is maybe the stupidest scheme that’s ever come out of your twisted brain.”

“Awwww Hilda, you acknowledged I have a brain.” Claude threw an annoying smirk her way. She’d been surprised when Claude and Byleth had called this sudden house meeting so late at night. Claude pestering her in the middle of the night was no big deal – he regularly showed up at her door with tousled hair, wearing barely anything but a silk robe, and rambling about a scheme he had or theories about their mysterious, alluring professor. Hilda would let him sit on her floor and ramble while she painted her nails on the bed. She couldn’t imagine he was this way with everyone, but she understood this aspect of Claude’s personality well. Sometimes the guy just needed to know somebody was listening to him, that he wasn’t just talking to himself. Everyone wanted to feel seen.

“Um, Is anybody else worried about how this will impact midterms?” Ignatz asked genuinely, perched on the edge of Leonie’s desk chair. Claude had explained to them that Leonie’s room was the best place to meet, given that it was the farthest from the members of other houses. Having so many people in the room didn’t seem to bother Leonie. She seemed energized by it, in fact, which probably had something to do with the community she was raised in. Lorenz, on the other hand, had taken a great of persuading to even step foot in the commoner’s side of the dormitories.

“That’s a great question, Ignatz!” Raphael boomed. He was tearing bites off of some jerky Leonie had left out to dry. It hadn’t taken him long to recover from the food poisoning, physically and emotionally. Ignatz, relieved to have somebody taking his side, smiled without meeting Raphael’s eyes. “Maybe Lady Rhea can give us credit for this instead of making us take exams!” Ignatz’s face faltered.

“I highly doubt that,” Lysithea replied flatly. “Besides, I don’t want to waste my precious time playing childish jokes when I could be studying.”

“WHY DID YOU POISON US, CLAUDE? Hello????? Why is nobody else still concerned about this??” fumed Lorenz.

Leonie rolled her eyes and snorted. “He already explained it was a _joke_ , Lorenz? And now we’re in on it. Besides, we head-knuckled him. We’re even now.”

Lorenz heaved in a labored breath and quickly sealed it with a cough. “I’m sorry, I understand the expression, but I had a physical reaction to you implying that any of you are my equals.”

“Lorenz! Chill out, buddy. He’s learned his lesson,” Raphael said, jabbing Claude in the side playfully. Claude tried very hard to conceal the fact that it had knocked the breath out of him.

“My hair may never be the same,” he joked.

“Really?” Hilda chortled, sliding a soft chestnut strand between her fingers. “Looks like the same bird’s nest as always. Are Marianne’s friends in there?” Claude chuckled.

“WHY ARE YOU ALL LIKE THIS.”

“Hold your horses, Lorenz,” Claude answered genially, radiating with easy charm. “You haven’t heard the next part of the plan yet. I think you’ll like it. Plus, it might put you at ease too, Lysithea.”

“Well, Fearless Leader, let’s hear it,” Leonie called, clapping a hand on Claude’s shoulder.

Claude grinned, lips all coy corners and roguish charm. Instead of answering, his hooded eyes slid over each of them in turn, lingering, assessing.

“Raphael, what would you say was your biggest strength?”

“That’s easy – my muscles. I use them to beat up bad guys!”

“You didn’t have to answer that so literally,” Lysithea muttered dryly.

Claude nodded. “They’re not just great for beating up bad guys. You could use them to lift, build, push and pull. Think outside the box of battle. Ignatz, what are your talents?”

“Oh, well, I’m a decent enough archer, I suppose…and a hard worker!”

“That you are, my friend. You’re also a great artist. And _that_ can be utilized, with a little creativity. Marianne?”

“Oh! No, I couldn’t possibly…please skip me, Claude.”

Claude smiled. “ _You’re_ great at keeping secrets. Normally, that frustrates the hell out of me, but not when it’s a secret we all share.”

“Claude, are you not going to ask ME about _my_ greatest strength?” Lorenz demanded, looking as if he had prepared for this moment all his life.

“Each and every one of you brings something different to the table,” Claude continued, “and it’s so much more valuable than what they think. That’s why I want to do this with all of you, and that’s why we decided that each of you will lead a prank to showcase your talents.”

“And that means a plan” Byleth said, unraveling a parchment onto Leonie’s desk. It was crisscrossed with lists, tables, and rough schematics in her tidy handwriting. “We’ll utilize a rotational team-based schedule. One prank a day, executed in teams of 3. That means you won’t have to be involved in every exercise, Lysithea, so you’ll have time for your other studies -- which I may add, you are _not_ exempt from, _Raphael_.”

“No problem!” replied Raphael, fully planning on not studying anyhow.

Lysithea gaped at the document, running a tiny hand along the parchment. “I can’t believe you’ve done so much for this, Claude. For a literal _joke_.”

“That was all Teach,” Claude made an exaggerated sweep-and-bow to her, proudly. “She’s the tactical expert. I’m just the devastatingly handsome visionary.”

Hilda sighed. “I don’t know, seems like an awful lot of work. Couldn’t we just…I don’t know…booby trap the battlefield or something?”

“Hilda, Hilda,” tittered Claude, throwing an arm over her shoulder. “Why booby trap the battlefield when we can booby trap their _lives_?”

She laughed as his breath tickled against her ear. “Well it _does_ seem like fun…” Her heart raced as her cheeks warmed. The idea really seemed to be exciting her more than she thought it would.

Claude ran with the momentum of her assent. “That’s _exactly_ the kind of spirit we need! Don’t you think, Deer?” Claude pulled back and straightened his shoulders, drawing himself to his full height. From his broad-set shoulders to his elegantly carved jaw, Claude _could_ look rather regal when he wanted to. It was just always offset by that cocky smile of his, the one Hilda knew was insincere.

It did make him all the more compelling, though, _if_ she wasn’t the kind of girl who could see right through it.

“Listen, guys. I know the reputation we have at this school. We’re outsiders, the sons and daughters of rogue merchants who put their own interests before their nations.” Claude sighed and inhaled, reinforcing the resolve in his voice. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t know how to unite and fight and work _together_. I’ve seen it – the strength in each and every one of us – to accept each other without judgment. I want to show everyone how beautiful a borderless world can be.”

With that, Claude reached forward, hands outstretched and welcoming. “Deer, are you with me?”

Stillness pervaded the room like heavy rain. It was a lot to take in. They all knew what it was like – being on the outside looking in – but looking at Claude’s hand, lithe and calloused and battle-scarred from countless hours training with a bow, trying to close the distance – it almost seemed like acceptance was within grasp.

Hilda was the first to take it. “I’m in,” she said, laying her palm against Claude’s, “I think it sounds like fun.” She met the intensity in his green eyes, at once passionate yet opaque, like a flame smothered in its own smoke.

“Same here,” added Leonie. “I’ve always thought you noble pricks relied too much on your ‘formal education’. I learned loads just by doing stuff like this with Captain Jeralt all the time.”

“If Claude wants to do it, I’ll support him,” thundered Raphael, slamming his giant palm into the circle. “I believe in him because he believes in my muscles!”

“S-s-same,” stuttered Ignatz. “Thanks for always supporting and encouraging us, Claude.” His grinned, sheepish, but determined. “Let’s show them what we’re made of!”

“Well, as long as we’re learning _something_ and this doesn’t get in the way of my regular studies…” Lysithea sighed, offering her hand to the circle.

“Fine!” cried Lorenz, feigning exasperation. “But I’m _not_ doing this for _Claude_. I’m doing this for the glory of the noble house of Gloucester! Soon the world will know of my talents.”

The group glanced at Marianne, who’d been silently observing the proceedings from the corner of the room. The expression on her face was dour, fearful. She looked so small and worn down, tired from the effort of just living her life. One pale, slender hand was gripped tightly over her chest, but the other – the other hovered forward shakily. Claude’s mouth crept upwards into a smile.

“I-I’ll try to help, if you’ll have me, of course…” she whispered, voice tiny, yet deafening in the anticipatory silence of the room.

The room shattered with celebration. “FOR THE ALLIANCE!” Raphael bellowed as they all threw their hands upwards and out, together in unison. Sparks of laughter pealed around the room as Hilda grabbed Marianne in a tight hug, giggling.

“Hold on a sec, guys,” Claude called, waving his hands in the air above his head. “I’ve gotta show you The Secret Sign of the Golden Deer…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch me on Twitter @Poonicorn2. I’ll post updates, stream-of-consciousness, J O K E S, etc.
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read my first ever chapterized fic! It took me wayyyy too long to write this first chapter. Like, I started this in January and all it took for me to finish it was quitting my job and going into quarantine.
> 
> GUYS AM I FUNNY? This was fun to write, at least. I needed to do something lighthearted after Close Quarters, and I love any excuse to write jokes. It's practically my motto: Life is Joke. Haha yes, I am a professional copywriter.
> 
> Shoutout to all my Deer out there -- all you weirdos and jokers and class clowns -- keep doing what you do. Bring joy to the world.
> 
> And don't forget to show love to the people who make you feel like you belong <3


	2. Leonie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leonie, Claude, and Marianne play a holesome prank on the Blue Lions.

**An Alliance of Misfits**

((Don't worry there's no angsty smut))

**Mission 2: Leonie**

“Oof, is it hot in here or is it just me?”

“We are in the sauna, Sylvain,” Felix retorted, not bothering to open his eyes. He was trying for a moment of peace at the end of a long day of coursework and training. “Naturally, it would be hot.”

“Unlike these pecs,” said Sylvain, demonstratively, “These puppies are _unreal_.” He sprawled open his arms and propped his elbow up on the ledge behind Felix, loose and sensual -- leaned in close.

“You wanna know a secret? I don’t even work out.”

“I just _came_ from working out with you, dumbass.”

“Was it as good for you as it was for me?” Sylvain whispered.

“Um…hey, guys? Could you maybe…stop?” Ashe’s cheeks were a furious shade of crimson beneath his freckles. “You’re making me uncomfortable.” Ashe knew it had been a bad idea to take the afternoon training shift with Felix and Sylvain – the most embarrassingly indiscreet couple in the Blue Lions and, possibly, the entire school. It was just that Annette had looked so downcast that she hadn’t been scheduled with Mercedes that he really didn’t have a choice in offering to switch with her.

“ _I’m_ uncomfortable,” insisted Felix. “I’ve been uncomfortable since the day we _met_.” He shot a daggered glare in Sylvain’s direction, a glance which anyone who spoke Felix knew meant _I love you so much you better not die without me or I’ll kill you._

“Suit yourselves,” Sylvain said, arms up in mock surrender, “I was just trying to have some fun before tonight’s mission.” He stretched out his legs and groaned, throwing his head back to reveal the taut expanse of his throat. “ _Why_ do we have to go on a mission after we just _trained_?” And then, because Sylvain has no self-control: “This is _not_ the kind of nighttime excursion I want to partake in.”

“Shamir said that it improves our ability to operate in low visibility situations,” said Ashe, who had perfect 20/20 vision, night or day.

“It’s a waste of time,” said Felix, who couldn’t see shit in the dark.

“Maybe we’ll get to fight something,” added Sylvain, who knew exactly what Felix liked to hear. And because he is predictable, Felix dropped his gaze to floor and gave a little smile.

A rush of steam fled through the far end of the room as the door opened, revealing the broad, neat figure of Dedue. “His Highness has requested that you expedite your preparations for tonight’s patrol. An airborne threat has been spotted south of the monastery. We have been assigned to investigate.”

“Dedue!” Ashe exclaimed, reflexively moving to cover his chest as a roaring blush washed over his face. He shouldn’t have let Sylvain convince him to enter the sauna half-naked. _Everything’s fine_ , he told himself. _Nothing weird about one man seeing another man’s chest_. He felt the hammering in his chest slowly ease and subside.

Unfortunately, the great goddess Sothis had seen it fit to grant Sylvain Jose Gautier the power of speech.

“Did you know that if two people pop a boner in the sauna at the same time, it means that they’re in love?”

Dedue paused, letting the silence in the air hang and curl with the steam.

“His Highness also warned me to not engage in prolonged conversation with Sylvain.”

“Hey!”

“SHUT THE FUCKING DOOR,” snarled Felix. “It’s _freezing_ in here.”

They joined up with the rest of their class at the monastery’s south entrance. Dimitri, Ingrid, Annette, and Mercedes stood at the edge of the woods carrying torches and wrapped in cloaks against the chill of the early fall evening.

“What’s the word, Boar?” Felix asked Dimitri, charmingly.

“My friends! How good it is for you to join us,” said Dimitri without malice. In fact, he was delighted that Felix had proactively spoken to him. “Professor Hanneman has informed me that the night patrol spotted a large, unidentified creature flying past the Goddess Tower, headed south, approximately a quarter after seventh bell. The knights are concerned it may be a misrouted migratory wyvern and have asked us to make certain that it does not get close enough to become a threat to the town.”

“Poor thing,” Mercedes lamented. “She must have gotten so distracted thinking about all the wonderful treats she was going to bake her friends that she made a wrong turn somewhere! It’s happened to all of us.”

“Um,” said Ashe, recalling how he’d found Mercedes on the seedier side of town the other day, chatting pleasantly and swapping sweetmeat recipes with some members of a local gang.

A whirlwind went up as the wings of Ingrid’s Pegasus, Lysander, kicked off the ground. “I’ll go scout ahead, see if I can spot it from the skies. I’ll signal for you to follow if I see anything.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Ingrid.” Dimitri answered, swinging up onto his mount—a mahogany warhorse named Titania. “Sylvain and I will ride between you and the unmounted members of our party to keep everyone within range of each other. The woods here are not lacking in places to conceal an enemy,” Dimitri said, voice going thoughtful and dark momentarily. Then, without missing a beat: “Should we light a torch for visibility?”

“No need,” Felix responded acerbically. “Sylvain’s a redhead.”

It wasn’t long before Ingrid had spotted a massive, winged shadow swoop across the trees and take roost atop a stone outcropping some distance into the woods. The Lions tore after it through the forest, eager to catch up while the trail was still fresh.

Ashe was surprised how fleet-footed Dedue proved on this terrain. He’d chosen to wear his Brawler attire this time, leaving behind the heavy uniform of his usual Armored Knight class. The change in clothing allowed him to move more easily through the trees, noiselessly leaping across fallen logs and earth-packed debris.

He decided he would not think about the level of exposure the outfit warranted, though.

A strangled curse flew forth from behind him as Felix stumbled again over uneven ground. The clumsiness was out-of-character for him. Typically, Felix and Ashe ran near the front of the pack, being the fastest unmounted units in the class. Even Ashe, who’d become nimble out of necessity to survive on the streets, had to admire the easy, feline grace that seemed to come naturally to Felix.

There was no moon out tonight, though, and Felix’s night vision had never been as good as his footwork.

“Hey, Felix?”

_“What?”_

Ashe flinched at the acid in his voice. He was obviously agitated.

“I’m about to tell you something, okay? And I want you to know that I’m telling you because I care about you, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Abruptly, Felix tripped and came thudding to the ground, swearing up a storm that scandalized the wildlife for miles around.

Ashe knelt down to help him up. Felix’s face was dusted in dirt and strands of hair had fallen free from his topknot, but, to Ashe’s unending surprise, his expression was that of a maiden’s on her wedding night.

“Y-you don’t have to worry about me,” Felix sputtered, bafflingly. He refused to meet Ashe’s eyes. “I…I know he doesn’t have the best reputation as a partner, or a noble…or a human being, for that matter, but fuck it, Ashe – I don’t care about those things! He’s…he’s a good man...once you get to know him.”

Fireworks went off in Ashe’s brain as he ran back the conversation in his head and realized how he could have been misinterpreted.

“Oh…oh my god, Felix. I wasn’t talking about Sylvain.” It was impossible to hold back the chortle. “I’m…” he snorts, “I’m so sorry hahahaha!”

Felix was fuming. He got to his feet in one swift maneuver and pushed the giggling Ashe aside. “ _What?_ What is it then?”

“I-I was just going to suggest that you wait for Annette and Mercedes,” Ashe continued, reigning in his giggling fit. “You might be able to navigate the terrain better with their fire spells lighting the way.” He smiled, soft and tenderly as he considered Felix’s embarrassment. “But seriously, though, Felix, I think you and Sylvain are a wonderful couple.”

Ashe didn’t need perfect nighttime vision to know that Felix was blushing uncontrollably.

“I don’t need to be slowed down by them! Or you!” he finally managed. With that, Felix took off pelting through the forest – far, far ahead of Ashe and the lights of the group.

“Oh for Sothis’ sake,” sighed Ashe.

Dimitri squinted into the night sky, just barely making out the silhouette of Ingrid and Lysander against the tree-framed stars.

Up ahead, the creature screeched, and Dimitri knew they were close. “INGRID! Don’t approach it by yourself! Wait for the party!” She wasn’t normally reckless, but she could get ahead of herself when dealing with opponents she thought she could outspeed.

And it was almost certain she could outspeed this one. Dimitri had caught glimpses of the beast, and, though they’d been brief, he could tell that there was something _wrong_ with this creature.

It didn’t sound like a wyvern, for one. The call was oddly similar – fiery and shrill – but there was just something _off_ about it that Dimitri couldn’t put his finger on…a slight inflection that made the sound more wyvern-adjacent than true.

Secondly, it moved like a _corpse_ – all loose limbs and unnatural undulations lumbering through the sky. There was decidedly something _uncoordinated_ to its fluctuations that made it unnervingly easy to find and hunt down.

Still, it was not within his nature to assume umbrage where there was no evidence for it. Likely, the creature had been wounded in some profane way that would cripple it until the end of its life. Happened often enough to beasts. To people, too. For all anyone knew, the end could be as close as their next breath.

“It’s retreated into the foliage!” Ingrid shouted from on high. “But I can’t get a good shot of it from here – the trees are too dense.”

“We’ll have to drive it out of the thicket from the ground.”

Ingrid nodded. “Twenty paces from your twelve.”

Dimitri reached behind him to unsheathe his lance. He’d have to keep level-headed, ready to pounce. The beast was close now, and he could make out its odd, hulking shape in the wooded area just ahead.

From the distance, there came a scream.

The woods were a shapeless blur as Felix ran past.

Duck under the branch. Leap over the fallen log. Slide through the narrow passage between those boulders.

See? He didn’t need to see. He didn’t need Annette and Mercedes to light the path ahead for him like he was some pampered noble who’d never seen low vision combat before. Things weren’t like when Felix was younger, when he’d been so afraid of the dark he couldn’t even go to the bathroom at night without a chaperone (Dimitri or Sylvain, usually, when it wasn’t a grumpy Glenn). He’d gone through so much since then, so much to make him stronger and fiercer and harder to break. Who the _fuck_ said he couldn’t handle a nighttime mission? He’d graduated top of his class at Garreg Mach and had been involved in numerous secret raids on the western church, and he had over 300 confirmed kills.

His foot hit the ground and sunk deep – _too_ deep – into the peaty detritus of the underbrush. Felix felt his legs fall first as the ground caved in beneath him. The adrenaline from the sheer shock of this development kept his senses sharp as he was briefly hurled into free fall. Instinctively, he twisted his body to land on his feet.

He fell on his ass, which wasn’t the worst – had Felix not been known by the entire school as Felix “Flat Back” Fraldarius.

“Fuck,” said Felix. Though something about this situation seemed familiar…

_A few hours earlier…_

“Claude! Quit dicking around and pick up a shovel!” Leonie yelled. She wiped a dirt-stained sleeve across her cheek. “It’s almost sunset! The Blue-Hoo Lions are going to be here soon.”

“Relax, Leonie.” Claude aimed his bow skyward and fired elegantly into the trees. The rope wrapped around the arrow’s base rippled like a ribbon through the air before the arrow embedded itself into a thick branch with a satisfying _thwack_. “We’re not going to need that many holes.”

Leonie stopped digging and straight-up _balked_ at him. “First of all, don’t say things like that in a T-rated fic.”

“No fourth walls when you’re outside,” Claude quipped, without missing a beat.

“Secondly, _excuse_ me? It clearly says we have to dig _eight_ holes in the Professor’s plans,” Leonie said, gesturing to the document in her hands. “Last time I checked we were still missing like, seven and a half holes.”

“Yeah, but those are just guidelines.”

“Claude!”

“Leonie!” Claude whined back. “We’re not going to need that many. Work _smart_ , not hard.” It sounded like advice he’d gotten from Hilda. Those two _were_ awfully close for two people who’d purportedly only known each other for such a short amount of time. After all, Claude hadn’t lived in Fodlan until he was mysteriously named heir to the sovereign duke a few years back.

Claude gave the rope an experimental tug. Satisfied, he placed a boot on the bark and pulled the rope towards him, beginning to climb. “This is easy. I can’t _wait_ to show this to Petra,” he hollered, somewhat perplexingly.

“Focus, Claude. What do you mean by ‘work smart’?” Leonie sighed, not bothering to wait for an answer before continuing to dig with quick, practiced motions. All things considered, she could get this done by herself – she _was_ the lead on this mission for a reason – but it was the principle of it that bugged her.

Leonie had always known that she’d been sort of a big fish in a small pond back in Sauin Village. Ever since she was a kid, her boisterous personality and bullheaded ways distinguished her from the other villagers, who were, for the most part, timid, modest people committed to living an honest life. She’d always wanted more than her small town had to offer, and meeting Jeralt had only stoked the flames of her desire, so she’d begged the townsfolk for tuition to the fancy officer’s academy. And they, being the kind, generous people who loved Leonie – despite her intermittent hot-headedness – had given it to her.

At Garreg Mach, Leonie became acutely aware of the fact that she was not a big fish at all, but a common bass in a school of sharks. Nobles were either transparently self-serving or biteless braggarts who only _talked_ about protecting people. They gave these obligations pretty names like “chivalry” and “honor”, but everyone knew that there was nothing at stake _really_ for them, insulated as they were by status and wealth. Not Leonie, though. She had a debt to pay – a duty to fulfill. She had something on the line that those pampered nobles could never understand. She was here for the people who had _chosen_ to put their faith in her strength. For better or for worse, she was _responsible_ for them.

So she would do her best to serve the Alliance, even if it meant entertaining the annoyingly cryptic suggestions of the sovereign duke’s heir.

“Why hunt every lion when you can topple the pride with one?“ Claude called from up high in the trees. “Wow, I can see the whole monastery from here. Were there always gargoyles on the roof of the cathedral? False alarm, it’s just Seteth.”

Leonie scrunched her nose, thinking. “You mean you don’t want us to trap all the Lions? That’s going to make it so much easier for them to rescue each other if one of them falls in first.”

Claude’s lips quirked into a grin Leonie could only describe as “unconscionable.” He leaned forward and plucked an acorn from a nearby branch. “Not if they can’t get to each other.” Then, with a flick of his wrist, he casually sent it plummeting straight towards Leonie’s head.

“Hole in one,” he said as the acorn ricocheted off her skull. And, because she was not above obvious metaphors, that’s when it hit her.

“Um, Leonie?” a voice prodded softly from behind her. Leonie could hear the breaking of twigs under deer hooves from miles off, but Marianne’s sudden approaches still made her feel like Raphael playing hide-and-seek with Shamir.

“I’ve finished my preparations with…the wyvern,” Marianne quietly informed her, twisting a cerulean strand of hair around her fingers nervously. “Though movement is still a bit...challenging.” She bit her lip and stared longingly into the distance, as if wondering if she, too, could wander off into the woods and never return.

Leonie beamed at her. “Well done, Marianne!” But her mind was distracted, running wild with the implications of Claude’s suggestion.

She ran through their plan again, this time more carefully. Location was one of the most important considerations of trapping. Couldn’t catch a beast without knowing where it was – or where it would be. They’d been careful in choosing where to dig the holes. She’d made sure of that – carefully reading the terrain and making note of cleared foliage and trodden paths that indicated frequent travel by humans. If they dug their holes here, it would maximize the likelihood of catching somebody – perhaps a slower member of the group, like Dedue or Mercedes – in their trap.

But there was more than one way to snare a beast. There were ways to manipulate the environment to tip the scales in their favor. Tools that beckoned. Tools that threatened. Tools that could lead their prey right to where they wanted them.

She also knew, from experience, that not every member of a wolf pack traveled at the same pace or on the same path – even when they were supposed to be hunting together. There were the stragglers, the rebels, the outsiders – members of the pack who thought and moved differently than the rest. More often than not, this made them vulnerable – easier to extort, and so naturally the pack would discourage this behavior. And yet, there were the rare exceptions – the lucky few – whose differences became understood as innovation instead of insurrection, propelling them to the front of the pack.

People like herself, she thought. And, she hoped, Claude.

She knelt to the ground immediately got to work, deftly winding and knotting a coil of rope around a nearby stump.

“Um, Leonie…what are you doing?” asked Marianne, eyeing the rope warily. She kept a wide berth between herself and Leonie, but conceded to step out from behind the tree she was hiding behind to investigate. “Will you…will you hang Claude with that?”

The heir of the Alliance, who just got roasted by the shyest member of his cohort, chose this moment to leap down from the tree, landing besides Marianne with exaggerated charm.

“Very funny, Marianne. Our captain Leonie’s just doing a little DIY. In the meantime, could I show you and our flying friend to the _prettiest_ little spot I saw from up in the tree? It’s not too far from here…”

It was stupid dark in the hole, Felix realized, as he climbed to his feet, wincing. Good, nothing was broken. He patted the dirt from his trousers as he stood up and tried to assess what little he could of his surroundings.

He was down deep, deep enough that he could no longer see the sky. That, or the canopy of trees in this area was so thick that it blocked out all starlight. Thankfully, the ground he’d landed on was loamy and soft, cushioned by a bed of dried leaves. It was so thick that even Felix’s lack of – ahem – natural defenses – hadn’t been a problem. There could have been traps, he supposed, but why weren’t they set off immediately when he was at his most vulnerable? Whoever had dug this hole hadn’t intended to kill.

The whole thing was suspiciously similar to something that had happened earlier in the year, when he’d challenged Leonie to a duel only to fall into her trap. That had been creative, he’d give her that – but the truly genius move on her part was using her lateness as a distraction. It had been hubris then that had done him in, so what gone wrong this time?

Stupid Ashe and his stupid questions. Stupid Sylvain and their stupid thing that he’d hoped nobody had known about (or talked about, at least) but they definitely knew now that Felix had gone and stupidly blabbered all about it to Ashe. All because he had been trying to—what? Defend _Sylvain’s honor_?

Felix usually thought himself above such vague, useless notions.

“This is the pits,” he said, kicking at a pile of dirt. And then, because it felt good, he dug his toe into the ground and _thrashed_ at the leaves.

“I. FUCKING. HATE. THIS,” he yelled – rough voice growing rougher – to the remote, indifferent skies.

He was alone.

“Who’s in the hole?” asked Claude, crouching down beside Leonie, nearly sending her toppling through the bushes. Leonie put a finger to her lips and shushed him.

“Keep your voice down! He still might be able to hear us.”

“You think? That was a really deep hole.”

“Oh my God, Claude. Just try phrasing the words in your head before saying them out loud.”

“If it’s Dimitri, I want him to hear it.”

Leonie almost blew a lung trying to stifle her laughter.

“He’s the hottest guy at this school. Everybody knows that,” defended Claude with ambiguous irony.

“It’s not Dimitri,” she said, clutching at her sides, trying desperately to breathe. “We-hahaha-we caught fucking FELIX – AGAIN.” She tumbled over in a fit of laughter, slapping Claude’s shoulders too quick and too hard and also too many times repeatedly.

Claude chuckled along, mostly to distract himself from the feeling of the bruise forming on his shoulder. He didn’t know what she meant by ‘again’, but he was glad to see she was having fun.

“The king’s best friend?” Claude said, smile wry and sarcastic. “That’s just as good.”

“They’re not best friends,” scoffed Leonie. “Felix hates Dimitri. He says so all the time.”

“Oh RIGHT. I _forgot_ that _hating someone_ means that _you never stop talking about them_ and _fretting over their mental and physical wellbeing_ …”

Leonie gave Claude a face that told him if he wasn’t going to shut up she would make him. Of course, that only made him want to talk about his theories all the more. Claude was about to regale Leonie with several observations he’d made in regards to Felix and Dimitri’s S-Support when a voice rang out of the hole.

““I. FUCKING. HATE. THIS!” snarled Felix. The sound echoed through the chill woods and off the dense canopy of leaves, leaving a sheet of tense silence in its wake. Maybe capturing Felix had been a stroke of luck for them. The guy had a set of lungs on him that was hard to miss. _Yes_ , thought Claude, _keep yelling, Baby Felix. Let them know where you are._

He wasn’t surprised to hear the rhythm of hooves in the distance, heavy and rapid and fast-approaching. Claude, Leonie, and Marianne had done everything they could think of to optimize their surroundings and ensure the success of their plot. Leonie, in a stroke of genius, had even shaped the hole conically to help sound carry.

It was incredible what could be accomplished when you gave people the chance to prove themselves.

“Felix!” a voice called out in the distance, undercut by the sudden hard squelch of hooves hitting mud. “Shit, where’d this bog come from?”

“Sylvain?” Felix called, and Claude couldn’t help but feel for the raw vulnerability in his voice. “Sylvain, _fuck_. I’m here! Can you hear me?”

Sylvain’s midnight mare let out a distressed whinny as it kicked at the extra thick muddy quicksand Leonie had whipped up. “Y-yeah. I can hear you, Fe. Hold on, I’m trying to get Bianca out of this mud. H-hold on. I’ve got you, OK? Just wait for me.”

Felix, who’d been thrashing and swearing like a fifth grader in a rap battle, suddenly softened his voice. “Okay,” he said, evenly. “I trust you.”

Claude was impressed by how practiced Sylvain seemed to be at mollifying Felix. It made sense, he supposed, considering the two were childhood friends. He wondered what it was like to have a friend for that long – someone to lean on, loyal and constant through all the tribulations of life.

Leonie’s elbow came hurtling into his side like a battering ram as she flailed and fell to the ground, laughing.

“Oh my God. I can’t believe this is working,” Leonie sputtered through her tears. “Claude! It’s working! It’s working!” Her face was split with a smile so wide that Claude couldn’t help but find it infectious. The plot _was_ developing nicely. Time to progress to the next step. Cupping his palms together and turning away from the scene, he hooted into the woods three times in succession, signaling to Marianne.

“It’s no good, Fe. This mud’s everywhere.” Sylvain’s voice was breathy with exertion. “It’s too dark to see where anything begins and ends…augh, if only somebody hadn’t suggested that my hair was an adequate stand-in for a torch!”

“ARRGGHHH!” A series of cures and grunts erupted from the hole as Felix attempted to scale the sides of the hole. It was no avail, though; the soil was too soft and crumbled straightaway whenever he tried to put weight on it.

There was a hostile pause before Felix clicked his tongue in exasperation. “Let’s just wait for Annette and Mercedes,” he said, begrudgingly. “They weren’t too far behind me, and they’ll have fire spells going.” He shifted his feet, feeling uncomfortably detached from his limbs. It was just so oppressively _dark_. “This doesn’t feel natural, Sylvain. Somebody set this up. Hopefully, the mages will get here before anybody else gets tangled up in this mess-”

“FELIX ARE YOU OK CAN YOU HEAR ME???” Dimitri’s baritone burst through the trees along with Titania, his enormous warhorse. She was audibly struggling with the uneven footing of the area, snorting and whinnying. Leonie had been thorough about supplementing the already tangled undergrowth with additional vines and branches she had Claude and Marianne collect. Frustrated, Dimitri dismounted and began shoving the impediments away by hand, easily crushing thick roots, vines, and even stone in his grip. He was making quite an uproar.

“Watch yourself, _boar_ ,” Felix said, unnecessarily abrasive, as if he was embarrassed at having been found by Dimitri in such a state. “You’ll bring down the entire forest with your squealing.”

“Do not worry, Felix. I am quite certain that the trees in these woods are very firmly rooted to the earth.” Dimitri called back, ripping an entire Noa fruit bush from the ground and tossing it aside. He wasn’t making very good progress, despite the rapid demolition of the offending foliage. He kept getting caught or tripping over new impediments.

“I wasn’t talking about that,” Felix sighed, voice dripping with long-suffering exasperation. “I was _talking_ about traps.”

“Felix is right, Your Highness. There’s a fair chance that we’ve been set up. It could be dangerous.”

“Sylvain? Is that you?” Dimitri called. “Where are you? Why is it that I cannot see your red hair?”

“Please let this joke die,” pleaded Sylvain. “It’s not even _good._ ”

From behind the bushes, Claude and Leonie cackled like a pack of thieves who’d just made off with the Adrestrian crown jewels. Leonie abruptly slapped him on the shoulder.

“Do the thing,” she said, shifting quickly into business mode. Claude saluted briskly and brought his hands together again.

A harsh, shrill screech came echoing through the woods, making the hair on the back of Dimitri’s neck stand up.

“It’s the wyvern,” he said, fighting to keep his voice calm. It sounded close by. Where was Ingrid? He supposed the trees here were too thick for her to breach – which _should_ mean they were too thick for the wyvern, but that beast…something about it was _off_ , and he didn’t want to leave the possibility of an attack to chance while they were in such a vulnerable state.

Goddess, who could have _done_ this? Bandits? Enemies of the crown? What did they want? Why were they targeting the Blue Lions in particular? Was it a rebellion? The timing would make sense; the Blaiddyd hold on the throne had weakened since his father’s passing.

If another tragedy occurred because of Dimitri he didn’t think that he would be able endure it. Didn’t even want to _think_ about what would happen if all his loved ones were ripped away from him once again. Goddess, he had to save them this time. He _had_ to.

The crest of Blaiddyd glowed in the air as Dimitri tore through another bramble, heedless of the thorns that scraped at his face. He was seeing shadows within shadows in his periphery, the vague outlines of demons encroaching upon him.

A dark shape swooped in front of him, solid and black and terribly, terribly wrong. He could barely make out its outline in the near-total darkness, but what he could see was an uncoordinated mass gyrating with uneasy dexterity through the trees. He swiped at it with his lance a couple of times, catching only air. It was no good. He couldn’t see the hands that held the lance in front of him, let alone the enemy. All he could do was try to avoid it for now, which meant he taking a longer route to get to Felix than he’d initially planned.

Just as the coil in his stomach began to wind in on itself irrevocably, a spark of light appeared some fifty feet away. It was small – entirely too small to illuminate as much as it needed to – but it was warm and growing and the sight of it made Dimitri’s heart light up.

Annette’s girlish voice rang out. “Have no fear – Annette and Mercy are here!”

“Ladies! Our saviors! I knew that your radiant faces would chase away the darkness,” hollered Sylvain, because had never been one to pass up a chance to embarrass himself.

The fire spell in the distance grew higher as Annette and Mercedes continued to feed it mana, illuminating the surrounding area.

And then, like a candle in the breeze, it was snuffed out. Instantly.

“What in Macuil’s name…?” Annette called into the oppressive darkness. “What happened” She opened and closed her hands experimentally. “I can’t-I can’t access my magic.”

“Oh dear,” murmured Mercedes, expression troubled. “A _Silence_ hex. We won’t be able to incantate or use magic here.”

“Somebody’s definitely _here_ , fucking with us,” snarled Felix. “And they’re going to _pay_.”

Dimitiri jerked backwards as the monster swooped at him again, wincing against the glaring afterimage of the flame as it went out. Before it had gone out—he had _seen_ something – some _one_ – casting long shadows into the bushes beneath the wyvern.

Blue. Blue hair.

Marianne slumped forward, propping herself up on her hands as she attempted to catch her breath.

“Nice, Marianne! You’re faster than you look! You even cast _Silence_ without stopping” Leonie beamed at her like a proud older sister. She really was too nice.

“Oh no…you give me too much credit. Shrek flew me part of the way.”

“Marianne—you named the wyvern ‘Shrek’?”

“Y-yes. I read it once in a storybook about an ogre. Is that weird?”

“No, no! it’s just…not something you hear every day.”

“That’s what ‘weird’ means,” Claude pointed out, helpfully. “Though I prefer to think of it as ‘original’. Ooo hey – Dimitri’s barreling towards the hole now. Five hundred gold says he trips over his own feet and makes another hole with the collision.”

“That’s not the plan!” Leonie scolded, knocking a fist into Claude’s skull. “Shut up and do your job and keep making those ugly wyvern calls! Goddess, why are they so _ugly_? Do you even know what a wyvern _sounds_ like? Don’t Almyran nobles keep wyverns as _pets_?”

“Yeah, they are pretty bad,” Marianne agreed.

“I am utterly shocked and dismayed that you both think that,” Claude cried, not in the slightest bit shocked, least of all dismayed. “You know, this whole plan would’ve been a lot easier to execute if they’d just let me bring my wyvern from home.”

“Who’s ‘they’? Seteth and Rhea?”

“The Garreg Mach stables don’t offer student parking,” explained Marianne. “Not even for Ferdinand – and _he_ called in his _father._ ”

“Yikes. Nobles.”

“There you are!” A voice yelled from the darkness.

Marianne gasped as a hand clamped around her arm. She twisted around to face her attacker. Ashe Ubert’s vivid chartreuse eyes stared back at her, flaring and luminous.

His eyes darted across each of their faces, expression furious and uncomprehending. “Golden Deer?” he spoke wonderingly. “But why?”

“FEAR THE DEER!” Leonie sprung like a hare from behind Ashe, twisting his arms behind his back in one fluid movement. Ashe struggled against her, but to no avail. Leonie was stronger, and it didn’t take her long to bind the rope around his wrists. Claude pulled out a gold and blue bandana and gently wrapped it around Ashe’s mouth, repeatedly whispering ‘I’m-sorry-I’m-sorry-it’s-just-a-joke’ as Ashe tried to scream for his comrades through his restraints.

The situation was utterly absurd. How did she get here? Marianne had been uncertain when Byleth had asked her to work with Leonie and Claude on this mission. She wasn’t sure if she could be of use to them – both so popular and confident and strong. She’d listened and watched from afar as they bantered, trading jokes and punches with each other like pups at play. It was fun to watch, but she knew everything would only be spoiled if she involved herself.

“Thanks for sticking with us this whole time, Marianne,” Claude said as Leonie jovially patted the fuming Ashe on the back. She looked up at Marianne, through the darkness that surrounded them, and smiled.

They’d been so patient with her – more than patient – warm. Welcoming. And here, as they crouched together side-by-side, eagerly anticipating the climax of their plot, Marianne found herself less inclined, for once, to sink into the shadows than to walk in the light with the ones who’d brought her here.

It was hard to hide when those sought you out wanted so badly to _see_.

Marianne wove a rune in the air, and the area exploded with light.

“What was that?” Felix yelled from the hole. “It sounded like Ashe. Ashe?”

“Don’t move, Felix!” came Dimitri’s voice, tense with something bordering on fear. “I saw someone – she-she ran into the bushes behind you. Do not worry; I will not let any harm come to you.”

“Get him, your Highness!” yelled Sylvain, Bianca’s rallying whinny trailing behind her rider’s.

That son of a Sreng. “Don’t let Dimitri save me, you dumbass. You’re my _boyfriend_.”

“He’s closer!” Sylvain returned. Felix began to mentally weigh the benefits of killing Sylvain immediately against keeping him alive as his personal human punching bag for the rest of his life.

If was bad enough that Dimitri had even _found_ _out_ about this at all, but if he was going to be the one to _save_ him…

Felix’s insides churned with hot fury (alternatively, he could still be feeling the effects of dinner last night).

He wasn’t going to let Dimitri save him. He had to get out of the hole somehow, before Dimitri got here. He was smart. He was strong. He didn’t need a _stupid boar_ to help him crawl out of a _stupid hole_. Driving the blade of his dagger into the dirt wall, he began to pull himself up, using his sheathe as a second handhold.

He was almost halfway to the rim when he was suddenly assaulted with a flash of light so bright it felt like it physically _hit_ him in the face. He screamed. His second descent back into the hole was somehow worse than the first, weighed down as he was by his failure. As he fell, Felix wondered how he’d ever go on living knowing that he’d owe a debt to the last person on Fodlan he would _ever_ want help from.

The weight on his chest was so, so heavy, and – as Felix came to on the bed of leaves, half-dazed – solid. Solid and incredibly dense, like a stone brick ripped straight from the walls of Arianrhod.

“Felix, are you alright?” Dimitri said, lifting his unnaturally heavy frame off of Felix’s chest. He hovered above him—broad, stupid face twisted in concern.

“Get off of me!” Felix yelled, shoving the crown prince of Faerghus off of him. “Ah!” He winced, feeling a sharp pain spasm through his back.

This only served to further distress Dimitri, who began to awkwardly fuss over him in a way that reminded Felix of a doddering old maid trying to take a burning pie out of the oven.

He hated it. He hated _this_. As Felix reluctantly took Dimitri’s outstretched hand, gripping his fingers with a might that spoke of his boiling resentment, he thought that, truly, he could not sink any lower than this.

“Felix! Dimitri! Are you guys OK?” Sylvain’s red hair popped over the lip of the hole. His face was softly lit by orange flames hovering in the hands of Mercedes and Annette, who joined him at rim.

“We got here as fast as we could. That light somehow lifted the _Silence_ hex. I guess the caster didn’t have enough mana to keep both spells going. They got away before we got here, but if we hurry, we could-“

Sylvain never got to finish his sentence because the ground beneath him and his comrades slid forward. Dirt and bodies flooded the hole in heavy clumps. Felix was thrown to the ground again, pinned down by a tangle of heads and limbs that was pure _force_ and confusion.

And before Felix knew it, he was pinned to the bottom of a hole with more than half of his classmates.

“I hate you all,” he declared. “When this is over, I’m going to join the Golden Deer.”

After Ingrid had found and fished them out of the hole, and Dedue had unbound Ashe from his restraints, the Blue Lions found themselves dragging their bruised bodies and egos back to monastery.

“You’re sure of what you saw, Ashe? Was it truly Claude?” Dimitri queried, looking oddly relieved. He’d suffered some minor cuts and bruises but, like most of the class, had emerged from the situation largely intact.

“I swear by Loog’s spear, Your Highness,” Ashe vowed solemnly. He pulled the gold and blue bandana from his pockets and squeezed it in his fist, a little too hard. He was still feeling incensed at having been captured by the enemy.

“Yes! That is Claude’s bandana!” confirmed Dimitri, raising a few eyebrows around the party. “I wonder why he would do such a thing? He really _is_ inscrutable, that Claude,” said Dimitri, who could not even scrutinize the difference between a 'wich and a weed.

“For what it’s worth,” rumbled Dedue. “It did not seem like he was trying to harm us.”

“Easy for you to say,” spat Felix, who was riding double behind Sylvain. Of the group, he’d taken the most damage to his back. After a brief examination by Mercedes, however, the injury had been declared to be minor and already mending, with the help of a little white magic. Though nobody could tell with the way Felix was acting.

“Serves you right for threatening to join the Golden Deer,” chuckled Sylvain, giving him a playful shove from behind. Felix bristled and hissed at Sylvain as the latter continued to laugh and squeeze his fuming partner more tightly between his arms.

“I didn’t mean it seriously!”

“Felix’s threats are hardly ever serious,” Ingrid remarked, turning to look back at her childhood friends with a wry smile.

“I’ll kill you for that.”

“There’s still the mystery of that wyvern,” Annette pointed out. She’d obviously been preoccupied with the question for a while. “What _was_ that thing? Ooooh it was so creepy.”

“It _was_ delightfully creepy,” Mercedes agreed.

“It did well to hinder my advances,” Dimitri murmured, a touch of coldness to his voice. “I believe that it led me to a specific location near the hole where a trip wire was set. That’s why I…lost my balance.”

“Right, about that.” Ingrid’s expression grew thoughtful. “I actually ran into it before I found you guys.” The rest of the group turned to look at Ingrid in awe, but her gaze was far away. “It was the strangest thing…”

“At first I thought it was a monster from the way it moved—some Adrestrian basement lab experiment gone wrong, but once I got close…I realized that wasn’t it.” Her lips screwed up into a bemused grin. “In fact, it wasn’t even a single entity at all.”

“What?” said Annette, eyes wide and curious.

“ _What,_ ” said Dimitri, eyes crazed and confused.

“You guys aren’t going to believe this but-“ Ingrid chuckled into her palm. “It was a _sheet_ – a sheer black sheet tied over a bunch of birds...geese and the like. I don’t even know how something like that could _fly_ , let alone chase the strongest warriors in all of Faerghus into a hole.”

“Mysteries upon mysteries,” murmured Ashe, who, despite his usual enthusiasm for fictional intrigue, followed the thought with a drawn-out yawn. “Mysteries for another day.”

Claude propped an arm up on Leonie’s shoulder, smile smug as they watched the Blue Lions retreat back to the monastery from the safety of the trees. 

“So they found out about the wyvern. Might be more brains in the Blue Lions than I give them credit for.”

“Brain _s_?” Leonie scoffed. “ _Plural_? They have _maybe_ one full brain cell among the eight of them.”

“Ouch,” whispered Marianna, though her mouth creased into a smile.

“Mostly Annette’s, I’m presuming?”

“Mostly Annette’s,” agreed Leonie “And Ingrid’s ass.”

Claude rolled his eyes. “Stop bringing up Ingrid’s ass.”

Leonie clicked her tongue at him. She, unlike Claude, gave credit where credit was due. “Say what you want, but she’s the one who actually caught the wyvern.”

“Speaking of,” Claude said, making an exaggerated bow towards Marianne. “That wyvern was a bold innovation on the part of our Chief Wildlife Expert. Who would’ve thought a bunch of birds in a bag could make such a passable wyvern?”

A charming blush crept into Marianne’s cheeks. “That’s very nice of you, but most of it wasn’t me…migratory birds have great flocking instincts. They have their individual tendencies but know naturally how to move in a group.”

Leonie felt Marianne flinch only a little this time as she slung an arm over the other girl’s shoulder, flashing her a grin that radiated all the fondness she felt in this moment. “Kind of like us, aren’t they?”

As the three sat in the tree, watching the golden candlelight of Garreg Mach burn softly in the night, Leonie mused that it might not be too bad to be a regular-sized fish in the vast ocean of life.

School. Flock. Pride. Pack. When she was with the Golden Deer, she felt like she was just a little bit bigger than what she was meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, please follow me on Twitter @Poonicorn2. I don't need your pity, but my Twitter does. (Seriously, though, I'm looking for fandom friends. You like jokes, kids??? I got jokes. Don't tell your mom.)
> 
> Apologies for the delay -- I wanted to finish this chapter last month, but I conveniently forgot about how slowly I write and the fact that I've never been able to write anything in my life without making it way too fucking long (at least I hit always hit the word count in school HURRRR)
> 
> Thanks again for checking out my fic and leaving a comment. This chapter wouldn't have been completed without the kind people who left comments on the previous chapter. Knowing that something I created brought joy to you guys is really gratifying. 
> 
> FEAR THE DEER!


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